Tuesday, April 22, 2008

A while back a friend and I had a discussion about how we'd feel if a man worked at our respective daycare centers. My first reaction was: Hell-to-the-no way. NO WAY.

Then another person told me about a time her daughter was spending the night at a her (perons I know) friend's house, and how the husband, whom she (the person I know) knows pretty well, gave her (the person I know) daughter a bath. And we both felt this way: Hell-to-the-no way. NO WAY. She said her daughter would never spend the night at her (the person I know) friend's house again.

Pronouns are tricky.

When I asked my husband how he felt about both topics, he was sorta, well...I don't see what's wrong with it.... I'm assuming partly because he's a man and I'm talking about men and he's got to stand up for his man power. Or he just didn't see the weirdness in it all like most women would.

Personally it gives me the creeps that any man would want to work with very small and defenseless children. And yes I'm stereotyping to a certain extent. I'm sorry, but I trust women WAY more to take care of my child and not do anything creepy with him. I'm not a statistics junky, but I'm sure if I looked it up, most of the child molesters caught and registered or even accused would be men. And creepy men at that. Big fat creepy men. Women, for whatever reason, prey on teenage boys, and since I don't have one of them yet, I'm not going to worry about it until that time.

So, to my dismay, when I walked into my daycare this morning to sign my son in, a man was in the office being told all kinds of stuff that wouldn't be said to a parent, so I had to assume he was a new hire. I told myself that perhaps he's a corporate exec or something, or, better yet, a journalist! Ya, that's it. And then I promptly forgot all about it.

When I picked up my son, and went into the office to sign him out, the man was still there. Lumbering around the tiny lobby area while the center director talked to a perspective parent. He eyeballed me. I ignored him. I was already getting whiffs of creepy dude from him. He asked me how I was, I said fine. I signed Mateo out. I left.

To my DISMAY, the parent wanted to see the infant/young toddler room, so here comes the parent, baby of parent, center director, and lumbering man.

He didn't know what to do with himself, so he came over to me and said, "How's blahblahbhhshahahhh?"

I was so put off by his fat belly, his geeky glasses, his just utter ickiness for the fact that he wanted to and is working at a daycare center, that I didn't hear him.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"How's the little guy doing?" he repeated.

I looked down at Mateo, whom I was holding while he bottle fed himself (my kid is slow on the uptake and yes, still needs a bottle here and there), and saw his cute little pudgy, smiley, happy face crumbling. The whine began deep inside, the cry was let out, the fake tears dripped.

"Um, I think that's an indication of how he is," I said. DRYLY.

"Oh, ha, ha," he said, still standing and staring.

Miss J, Mateo's teacher, piped in and said that Mateo wasn't used to the man because he was new. As in, get away from him, you creepy child predator and why the heck are you even here, you don't belong here, go away, and go away fast. At least that's what I heard. Didn't everyone?

So he walked away and found another small defenseless child to torment.

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Me.

I'm a working Mom who blogs daily. I'm creative, cynical and have a quick wit on those days I’m feeling awake. I communicate for a living and have a fondness for the feline species. You can usually find me listening to music, which I do so incessantly. To call me an avid reader would be one of life’s little understatements. I am smitten with my child and husband, and do everything I can to make their lives that much more interesting.
I also have a cat, Sophia (aka Missy), who enriches our lives greatly by driving us nuts.